Have I not posted on this account in 7 years? Yes. Am I only doing so to share a new fanfic I wrote because I’ve developed a Dragon Age hyperfixation and wanted to write a TransMasc!OC/Cullen fanfic with Male!Inquistor/Dorian as a side treat? Also yes.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Here’s a small segment I haven’t posted yet to see if you’re interested:
They walked out of the Chantry side by side, Teon deep into his observations of the order. He offered that there were genuine Templars who cared both for the safety of the people and the mages under their ward, but they were stifled by the close-mindedness of their Knight-Commanders. The fear they taught recruits to have for mages would inevitably only end in distrust and at worse abuse, it gave them an excuse to see mages as inferior. Inferior, and yet powerful. A recipe for a warped perception.
“I’ve personally witnessed the damage a possessed mage can do,” Cullen responded gravely. “You think there should be no precautions?”
Teon shook his head. “I did not say that, but those precautions should be handled by mages themselves. We should govern ourselves.”
Teon snorted. “I did not expect you to.”
“You’ve neglected to explain where the Templars fit into this self-government.”
Teon’s feet halted. He hadn’t cared much to consider it, but Fiona certainly had and had tried and failed to convince many of the mages under her charge to agree with her solution to the problem.
He crossed his arms as he spoke. “There are still those that will never stop fearing magic and those that practise it. Should they be deemed trustworthy and committed to protection I see no issue in some Templars resuming their duties. They just would not have the ability to call for the rite of annulment and have to answer to the First Enchanter.”
“And those that would disavow those terms?”
Teon shrugged. “They are the Chantry’s problem, then. Not ours. My main concern is that mages are no longer chained and made to fear that any transgression could lead to their execution or Tranquillity.”
Cullen didn’t seem too shocked at his dismissal. Still, he would not let it go quietly. “You would condemn them to a slow and painful death. The Chantry does not supply lyrium to those they deem useless.”
“The thought does pain me,” Teon admitted. “Above all else I am a healer, I wish to see less suffering in the world not more. I am not so heartless as to wish such agonising madness on someone, even Templars.”
That seemed to give Cullen pause. He was determined to make his point clear, however. “Yet in freeing mages you will inevitably bring such suffering to countless men and women.”
“And how many more might be saved from it, I wonder.” He countered. “How many apprentices have been struck down or made Tranquil because they simply twitched the wrong way at the wrong time? As I said I do not have ill-will towards an individual Templar, but if they must suffer for an apprentice to never have to fear the cold stab of a blade again then so be it.”
A chilling breeze suddenly sliced into him, strong enough to rattle his bones. He had been so absorbed in their back and forth he had quite forgotten they were still outside. He realised they had walked all the way to the training field. It was mostly empty, a few soldiers lingered while the rest had retired for the evening.
Cullen frowned. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, I just didn’t realise how long I had been talking for.”
“I must admit neither did I. I was rather enthralled by your beliefs.”
Teon raised an eyebrow. “I can’t tell if that is sarcasm.”
Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “It is not. It is useful to hear a mage’s perception of the order.”
“Even though you disagree?”
“Yes,” Cullen admitted. “I once harboured anger towards all mages, and many suffered for it. It was unbecoming of me. I try to listen when a mage is willing to offer their experiences, it is the least I can do given my previous transgressions.”
Teon softened at that. A little, anyway. “It is rare for someone to admit their prejudices, let alone reflect and learn from them. I wish more Templars thought as you did.”
Cullen blinked. He seemed genuinely taken aback. Then, that smirk curled his upper lip. “By chance, have you had a detailed discussion with a Templar other than myself?”
Teon thought for a moment, but no instances came to mind. “No, actually. Not that I can recall. It was discouraged in the circle, as you should know.”
“I do, but this is not the circle. It might be worth approaching a few here and learning more about them.”
He scoffed in response. “I’m not sure that would end well.”
That smirk remained. “I thought the same until I joined the Inquisition. If we can find common ground I’m certain you will do fine.”
The glow of the moonlight suited Cullen’s features much more than the torches did. It smoothed his skin, somehow, showing how youthful he actually was beneath the tired circles around his eyes. Maker’s breath, he hoped Dorian wasn’t spying on them from behind a tent.
“I’ve taken up a lot of your evening,” Teon stammered. “Though, would you humour me in answering a question?”
Cullen tilted his head. Curious. “If it allows a short answer.”
Teon fumbled with his fingers. It was something that had irritated his mind since he first heard it mentioned. “Why did you leave the order?”
Cullen glanced up at the Breach. “I was eight years old when I declared to my siblings that I would join the templars. They humoured me, but none of them thought I was serious. The Templars at the local chantry were certainly entertained by my enthusiasm, enough to ask my parents permission to train me. I wanted to help people and I believed the order was how I could.”
Those earthy eyes met his own, just for a moment, before Cullen lowered his gaze. “Now I believe only the Inquisition can stop this madness.”
Teon smiled thoughtfully, his own gaze landing on the Breach. “You know, I think I agree with you.”
Cullen chuckled. “Then the world has definitely gone mad. May I ask you a question in return?”
Teon smirked. “If it allows a short answer.”
“Trevelyan mentioned you are Fereldan, where did you grow up?”
“Gwaren,” he answered instantly. It was the few things about himself he was proud of. “My father worked as a carpenter before the Blight took him.”
Cullen shot him an empathetic look. “My condolences, my parents were also killed during the Blight. My siblings safely reside in South Reach, however. What of the rest of your family?”
“I still have my sister, Elsie. Leliana managed to track her down.” He paused, guilt stabbing his chest. “I want to write to her but I’ve found the words…difficult.”
“They always are when so much time has passed,” he murmured. “I did not write to my siblings for years, I did not want them to know the man their brother had become. When I joined the Inquisition I finally forced myself to at least inform them I was alive and well. As you can imagine, the letter I received was rather angry. Mia certainly has a way with words.”
The way Cullen talked about his family was unnerving. An edge to his tone that wasn’t there in the meetings or when he trained the soldiers. It was so human.
He turned, smiling at Teon warmly. “Sometimes the words themselves do not matter, merely the fact they know you are alive is enough.”
That small ember inside pulsed, a burst of golden flame burning a little brighter.
“If that is the case, then, I would like to retire and write to her. Thank you for your time, Commander.”
He bowed to him with genuine respect and turned to leave. As he did, however, a hand suddenly clasped around his wrist. Shocked, he yanked it free. His fingers hummed but he flicked the magic away.
“Forgive me,” Cullen said, flustered. “I - I would just prefer it if you called me by my name. Given you’ve more than earned your place on the council.”
Teon blinked. The feeling of Cullen’s gloved hand was still imprinted on his wrist. It had been gentle but it burned his skin. Raw. He rubbed it, hoping it would wipe the feeling away.
“Very well,” he said. “Thank you for your time, Cullen.”
Cullen bowed. “And yours.”
